It's true that MacIntosh doesn't believe it's raining, but that's because they don't know it's raining. So there's no reason for MacIntosh to make such a silly statement.

but that's because they don't know it's raining. — Marchesk

Are you sure McGillicuddy doesn't know it is raining? I don't think that is clear.

Are you sure McGillicuddy doesn't know it is raining? I don't think that is clear. — Wheatley

I thought McGiilicuddy does know it's raining. But McGilicuddy is referring to MacIntosh's not knowing and thus not believing. MacIntosh can't refer to themselves that way, because they're not in the know!

As G.E. Moore put it, “Why is it absurd for me to say something true about myself?” — Wheatley

I don't believe there is life on Mars. But let's say there is. I can truthfully say that I don't believe there is life on the Red Planet. But I'm wrong in this scenario. If I knew I was wrong, I would not say I believed otherwise. But I don't actually know that.

So I can say something true about my belief when wrong, as long as I don't know better.

I don't get it. I leave this to somebody else.

I don't get it. I leave this to somebody else. — Wheatley

Or I don't. But I believe I do. So therefore I think I can say something true about myself.

I refer to my previous post.

I rather somebody else discuss this with you, it's not personal.

I think this is the key part:

Thus your friend McGillicuddy, who knows your situation, can say truly of you, “It’s raining, but MacIntosh doesn’t believe it is.” But if you, MacIntosh, were to say exactly the same thing to McGillicuddy—“It’s raining, but I don’t believe it is”—your friend would rightly think you’d lost your mind. Why, then, is the second sentence absurd? As G.E. Moore put it, “Why is it absurd for me to say something true about myself?” — Wheatley

I think there's a slight of hand here: First it asks you why the sentence is absurd, then it asks you why something that you do is absurd.

Yeah, it does seem like a sleight of hand. But it does also play into belief versus knowledge and certainty, so I could see where it's a jumping off point for Wittgenstein.

But it does also play into belief versus knowledge and certainty, — Marchesk

Those are all very tricky concepts. :rofl:

I certainly believe that I know Moore was full of shit waving his hands around, thus the common phrase, "hand-waving an argument away".

Now tell me I'm wrong!

You couldn't be more right! https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Here_is_one_hand

I like the two related examples:

Samuel Johnson's kicking a rock while hollering, "I refute it thus!", and Diogenes walking away from an argument claiming that motion was impossible.

I like Diogenes the best of the three.

That's where science comes in. Scientists don't have much patients for philosophical wordplay, they rather have you do an experiment.

That's where science comes in. Scientists don't have much patients for philosophical wordplay, they rather have you do an experiment. — Wheatley

Sure, but let's say Johnson kicked that rock to prove it was solid against atomists claiming it was a bunch of atoms and the void. Then low and behold physicists discover that solid objects are mostly empty space. So Johnson's common sense reaction doesn't amount to much other than rocks appear solid and also hurt when you kick them.

Now let's say somehow science determines that our universe is a simulation. That means Moore waving his hands around amounted to proving nothing about an external world. And Diogenes walking away isn't the same as moving through physical space.

Point being that common sense objections to philosophical arguments don't amount to much.

Point being that common sense objections to philosophical arguments don't amount to much. — Marchesk

Common sense is only good for common things. Skepticism about the external world ain't common. There you go, now you can publish this argument in your favorite philosophical journal.

Should have said: pity you're only called MacIntosh, and don't have a MacIntosh, because, believe me, if you go outside you'll need one. :-)

The sense of the sentence is determined by whom is saying it and the context. If I were to imply that MacIntosh was mocking Macgillycuddy by using quotation marks, punctuation and tone in the sentence then it is resolved.
"' 'its raining', but I dont think it is." Here Macintosh is quoting Macgillcuddy mockingly and then affirming his counter belief.
Nothing has fundamentally changed about the content of the sentence simply how it is applied to the situation.

Or ... if you consider Macintosh saying his absurd phrase but you ask for further qualification of the sentence (context), it can be firmly placed within a logical sentiment. For example;
"Its raining, but I dont believe it is." "What do you mean?" 1). "Well despite the fact that i am aware there is an outer world where such things surely happen, i am in a windowless room, and i choose only to believe what i can sense in front of me.

Though philosophically extreme, this would be a rational context to place such a sentence.

Or "it's raining but I dont believe it is" "How so?" "Rain often begins as snow at higher altitude only melting in the last moments. So if it spends most of its fall as snow and a little as rain which one is it truly? Both are falling right now at this moment. So it depends on your perspective. "It is raining, but I dont believe it is as I believe it is snowing."

Although pretty pointless and annoying ... these eccentric rationalisation no less remove the absurdity of such a sentence or at least some of it.

If nothing is done and the sentence is allowed to remain standalone with no contact then it is absurd.

It's true that MacIntosh doesn't believe it's raining, but that's because they don't know it's raining. So there's no reason for MacIntosh to make such a silly statement. — Marchesk

There might not be a reason for him to say it but he might nonetheless say it. As you say, it's a silly statement, but also a true statement. That's the puzzle.

I know Trump was elected president, I just don't believe it.

There might not be a reason for him to say it but he might nonetheless say it. As you say, it's a silly statement, but also a true statement. That's the puzzle. — Michael

While I could say, "It's raining outside, I don't believe it", I couldn't actually be saying that truthfully.

“It’s raining, but I don’t believe it is”—your friend would rightly think you’d lost your mind. Why, then, is the second sentence absurd? As G.E. Moore put it, “Why is it absurd for me to say something true about myself?” — Wheatley

Being poor in English, you might want to read this with a pinch of salt.

The sentence "it's raining", in my humble opinion, is actually this: "I believe it's raining" and this is directly contradicted by "but, I don't believe it's raining". Ergo, to say, "it's raining, but I don't believe it is" amounts to contradicting yourself.

That said, it's probably useful to look at the problem against the backdrop of "belief" and "fact". A fact is, in the simplest of terms, the way the world is. A belief is what one holds to be true.

As you can see, a belief is an option. This may not seem obvious to you but consider matters on which the jury is still out. In the absence of compelling evidence and /or sound arguments, certain propositions are in truth-value limbo. Yet we see many adopt positions on such undecided matters - instances of making a choice as to what one wishes to believe.

So, even if "it's raining" is true, it's entirely within the realm of possibility that " but I don't believe it is"

:chin: :brow:

Good thread. :up:

My resolution to this apparent paradox is to distinguish between the speech-acts of "expressing", which is a demonstration of one's own mental state, one's thoughts or feelings, and "impressing", which is attempting to affect a mental state in another person; and to highlight how, if we assume a speaker is being honest and not manipulative, we assume an impression from them upon our minds to imply also an expression of their own mind. That is to say, when they impress upon us that X is true, if we assume that they are honest, we take that to also express their own belief that X is true. If they then impress upon us that they don't believe X is true, that impression contradicts the preceding implied expression of their belief. It is akin to shouting in a rage "I'M NOT ANGRY!". There is nothing self-contradictory in the content impressed, in either case — it's possible for someone to be non-angry, and it's possible for someone to disbelieve a truth — but just as the raged shouting expresses anger in contradiction to the impressed claim of non-anger, the utterance "X is true" implicitly expresses belief in X, and so contradicts the attendant impression of disbelief.

(The more common term "assertion" can, I think, be taken to be equivalent to my term "impression" here, but I like how the linguistic symmetry of "im-" and "ex-" illustrates the distinction: to "express" is literally to "push out", and one may imagine an illustration of expression as little arrows pointing out of the speaker's mind; while to "impress" is literally to "push in", and one may imagine an illustration of impression as an arrow pointing into the listener. Though I've spoken of impressions and expressions thus far only as they apply to statements, pushing thoughts from speaker to listener, the distinction can also be applied equally to questions, where an impressed question is a direct question figuratively pulling something straight from a listener, while an expressed question is a more open-ended wondering, a demonstration of the speaker's own uncertainty and openness to input should anyone have any to offer. Sentences of the forms "I wonder if X." and "Is it true that X?" clearly illustrate the difference. Since questions "pull" rather than "push", we might continue the clear Latinate verbal illustration by terming the "is it true" type of question an "extraction", meaning literally "pulling-out" of the listener, and the "I wonder" type of question an "intraction" — not "inter-action", but "in-traction" — meaning literally "pulling-in" to the speaker. The difference intended here is like the difference between billing someone for a service, versus putting out a hat so passers-by can donate what they like. The difference between impression and expression is likewise comparable to the difference between sending a product to someone directly, versus setting it out with a "free" or "take one" sign.)

The difference between impression and expression is somewhat analogous to, but not literally the same as, the difference between the imperative and indicative linguistic moods, inasmuch as an impressive speech-act is effectively telling someone what to think (or in an impressive question, telling them to tell you something), while an expressive speech-act is effectively showing others what you think (or in an expressive question, showing your uncertainty). However it is important to stress that I am not saying impressions are literally imperative and expressions are literally indicative, because I hold that the ordinary indicative type of statement that's generally held to be the plainest, most default kind of statement is itself a kind of impressive speech-act: saying "Bob throws the ball" impresses a belief in Bob throwing the ball, implicitly tells the listener to believe that Bob throws the ball, and so is kind of imperative-like in that way, but is still distinct from the literal imperative "Bob, throw the ball!". Similarly, expressive speech-acts, while they are indicative-like in the manner that they communicate, can be more imperative-like in their contents, such as "I think Bob ought to throw the ball", without impressing that opinion on anyone, much less Bob himself. But, of course, we can also merely express indicative-like, descriptive opinions, ala "I think Bob throws the ball", and importantly, I hold that we can also impress imperative-like, prescriptive opinions, ala "Bob ought to throw the ball". Expression and impression are about how an opinion is delivered; it's a separate matter as to what the contents of that opinion are.

But if you, MacIntosh, were to say exactly the same thing to McGillicuddy—“It’s raining, but I don’t believe it is”—your friend would rightly think you’d lost your mind. — Wheatley

Nowhere in the anecdote does it say MacIntosh knows that it's raining. So, true or not, it would be absurd for MacIntosh to say he knows what he doesn't know.

Simple tendentiousness on Moore's part, I don't doubt.

While I could say, "It's raining outside, I don't believe it", I couldn't actually be saying that truthfully. — Marchesk

If you don't believe that it's raining outside but it is in fact raining outside then you would be saying it truthfully.

Nowhere in the anecdote does it say MacIntosh knows that it's raining. — ZzzoneiroCosm

Read carefully.

Read carefully. — Wheatley

Where does it say MacIntosh knows?

It makes clear that Macintosh doesn’t know.

If you don't believe that it's raining outside but it is in fact raining outside then you would be saying it truthfully. — Michael

Right, but I wouldn't be saying that i know it's raining outside, but believe otherwise!

makes clear that Macintosh doesn’t know. — Wheatley

Good.

Then it's silly (and likely simply tendentious) of Moore to put the words "it's raining" in his mouth.

It's important to note that MacIntosh is both "you" and "MacIntosh" in the anecdote. The heart of Moore's tendentious sleight of hand.